


crawl home

by biblionerd07



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Body Horror, M/M, Magic, Mild Gore, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Soul Selling, Temporary Character Death, Temporary Zombie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 07:57:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8437627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biblionerd07/pseuds/biblionerd07
Summary: By now, the world's learned what Steve Rogers will do for Bucky Barnes. They have no idea about the other way around.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Crawl Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8512012) by [joankindom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/joankindom/pseuds/joankindom)
  * Translation into Русский available: [Ползи домой](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13623078) by [Tressa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tressa/pseuds/Tressa), [WTF_Marvel_Trash_Party_2018](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WTF_Marvel_Trash_Party_2018/pseuds/WTF_Marvel_Trash_Party_2018)



> A semi-Halloweenish Steve/Bucky fic! The character death tag is temporary and the gore is very slight. Also I'm not entirely sure what constitutes body horror but this probably counts?

They send Wilson to tell him. They probably think he's less likely to snap and kill Wilson for it, and he can't even think derisively of them for being afraid of him because he knows he's basically a rabid dog.

Coming out of Wakandan cryo is immensely better than any other cryo he's been in. He doesn't have to blink icicles off his eyelashes and somehow they made sure he doesn't regain consciousness until he has feeling back in his limbs. The tube falls away and the room's still a little chilly, so he can adjust, but he doesn't feel the screaming slice of his skin thawing out.

Wilson's all drawn up and trembling, so Bucky knows right off the bat something happened to Steve.

"What is it?" He asks, wondering if he can stand yet. He decides to give it a few minutes.

"Steve," Wilson chokes out. "Steve's dead."

Bucky clenches his teeth against the fury and terror that course through him. He reminds himself it's fine.

"What happened?"

"HYDRA," Wilson says. "They shot him with...something. I don't know. He fell."

"Where is he now?" Bucky asks. Wilson looks a little shocked and Bucky forces himself not to roll his eyes. "I don't mean cosmically."

"They took him."

Now Bucky's pissed. "They took him? Where?"

"There's a base in Luxembourg."

"When?"

"Yesterday." Wilson looks washed out and Bucky's heart kinda goes out to the guy. It's his first time dealing with Steve dying. God knows Bucky wasn't calm his first time. That's what got them here. He wonders if anyone thought about how hard this would be for Wilson and now he can think bad thoughts about them all he wants.

"Okay," Bucky says. They've got until tomorrow. "Let’s go."

"Go?" Wilson asks.

"Let’s go get him."

"He's dead," Wilson snaps. "What does it matter where his body is?"

Bucky rubs at the back of his neck. T'Challa comes in just then and Bucky shrugs. "Then let’s go burn the place to the ground." T'Challa looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn't. Bucky turns to him. "Got any tac gear I can borrow?"

His mother would be horrified by how forward he's being, but since his whole life the last 70-odd years has been one long horror show, he figures another drop in the bucket won't matter.

"Of course," T'Challa says.

They set out in the jet Wilson came in on. Wilson's quiet, chewing at his lips.

"You saw him fall?" Bucky asks.

Wilson breathes out harshly through his nose. "Yeah. He was halfway up a building."

Bucky shakes his head. Steve's such a reckless asshole. "It's not your fault," he tells Wilson, because he knows a thing or two about watching a friend die. The muscle in Wilson's jaw clenches and Bucky knows he hit a sore spot. "You know he'd be mad at you for beating yourself up," Bucky points out.

"Well he's not here to get mad at me," Wilson snaps. "You seem awful calm about all this."

Bucky does his best not to sound flippant. "People've counted Steve out a million times. He always gets up and keeps fighting anyway."

"I know what a dead body looks like as it's falling." Wilson's voice breaks and he stands abruptly. "Can you handle this?"

"Yeah," Bucky promises, hoping his voice is gentle. "Why don't you get some sleep?"

Wilson nods and they both pretend he's actually going to sleep. Bucky shakes his head, looking into the clouds around him. It's not that it gets easier, seeing Steve die, but he is a bit used to it now.

 

Wilson hesitates outside the base. Bucky looks at him questioningly and he just shakes his head. Bad memories, maybe.

"Let's go," Wilson says, face going hard. There's blood in the snow. It makes Bucky's fist clench. That's Steve's blood. He may not be worried about Steve being dead, but Steve bleeding means Steve hurt, and that's never okay.

Bucky's down an arm. It's not world-ending; he can still fight. But he relied on the metal arm a lot in fights—stopping bullets, blocking knives, choking. His rifle means he's a bit uncovered, and the gun itself is unsteady. But he's got Wilson, and they've both got rage on their side. The base is down to its last legs, the last few agents left who were hoping for glory by taking down Captain America.

Bucky would love to make their deaths slow and painful, but he doesn't have time for that. He has to get to Steve. They’re down to a few hours left. They mow through the HYDRA agents. One gets a knife into Bucky's thigh and he grunts, rams the barrel of his gun into the guy's face in retaliation, then shoots him twice for good measure.

Silence. They've finished them off.

Bucky's never been in this particular base, but every HYDRA base is laid out basically the same. Somewhere in the guts of the building will be a lab. Or a crypt, once all the lab rats have died. He leads Wilson through the halls, the two of them covering each other, until Bucky can tell they've made it. The trail of blood ends here.

There, on a table, is Steve, face stern and chest unmoving. Bucky can't help the strangled noise that comes from his throat. Seeing Steve laid out all helpless and dead is his worst nightmare. Wilson's breaths are coming faster as Bucky climbs up onto the table. Someone cut Steve open. It's a good thing everyone in the base is already dead, because his open chest cavity and the way his skin's flayed in spots—checking for post-mortem reactions—make Bucky murderous.

Though it is kind of a good thing Steve's ribs are already cracked open, because Bucky doesn't think he could do it one-armed. He hesitates before he leans down. He looks back at Wilson.

"You should go sweep the building," he suggests. "Make sure we got everyone."

Wilson narrows his eyes. He can tell Bucky's trying to get rid of him. Bucky’s just thinking of him, honestly. Morita'd seen this once, during the war, and Bucky knows for certain he didn't sleep for a week.

"No," Wilson protests, because anyone who's friends with Steve is going to be a pigheaded asshole.

"Alright, don't say I didn't try," Bucky mutters. And then he leans down and he sticks his head into Steve's chest. Wilson lets out a muffled shout behind him but Bucky ignores it. He blows stream of breath onto Steve's heart. It shivers.

"That's right," Bucky murmurs. He presses a kiss to the muscle and recites the words he knows, the first words that came back to him, the words they couldn't burn out of his head. "Cease your wandering. It is I, whom you've chosen and who chooses you back. Come home to me." He climbs off the table.

Steve gasps.

Now Wilson doesn't bother muffling his yell. It doesn't matter anyway. They killed everyone in the base. Steve groans as his ribs grow back together. Bucky's used to the sound now, but he can hear Wilson cursing. Bones back together, the muscle and sinew springs out to cover them, and then the skin knits together.

"Buuuuh," Steve moans.

"Right here," Bucky assures him. "I'm here."

With a jerky, stiff movement, Steve reaches out his arm. Bucky leans forward so Steve can feel his face.

"Buh," Steve sighs. Bucky presses a kiss to his forehead, mingling the blood from Steve's heart with the grit and dirt already on his face.

"There's number five," Bucky reminds him, even though Steve can't understand any words more complex than names right now.

"What the fuck?" Wilson asks, voice high-pitched. "What the fuck?"

Steve makes a worried sound and Bucky kisses him again. "It's okay." He turns to Wilson. "Either get it together or get out. You're freaking him out."

"Oh _I'm_ freaking _him_ out? _He's_ the one freaked out right now?"

"Go get the jet ready," Bucky orders. "He'll be ready to move in about twenty minutes."

He expects more argument, but apparently seeing his friend come back to life is Wilson's argument threshold. Bucky turns back to Steve and frowns when he sees the scar down his chest and stomach. That usually goes away when his skin grows back. But he'd never been out for this long before Bucky brought him back. Or maybe it only heals Bucky's marks on Steve. Bucky’s not exactly sure of all the contingencies here.

"Hurting?" He asks sympathetically when Steve whines. Steve grabs blindly, eyes still closed, and Bucky guides his hand up to touch Bucky’s face. Steve settles a little. By the time Wilson gets back, Steve's able to stand up. He's got his eyes open, but they're screwed up tight against the light.

"Ready to go?" Bucky asks Wilson. Wilson can't stop staring at Steve, which is understandable. Steve leans heavy on Bucky as they walk. His feet are probably still a bit...well, dead.

They get to the jet and Wilson says, "I'll fly."

"Saaaaam," Steve says, smiling dopily as he paws at Wilson's face.

"Yep, Sam came to get you home," Bucky tells him.

"Sam," Steve repeats happily.

"Hey, man," Wilson says. It's shaky and weak, but he gets it out.

"Sam!"

"Come on, Steve, let’s go lie down," Bucky says, guiding Steve over to flop down across the seats. "I'm gonna go check the plane and I'll be right back."

"Nooo," Steve protests, clutching at Bucky's arm.

"Two minutes," Bucky promises, kissing Steve's slack lips.

"Two," Steve echoes. He releases Bucky's arm.

Wilson's staring out the windshield of the jet, eyes huge and body trembling a bit. He lets out a harsh breath when he notices Bucky.

"Is he gonna be..." Wilson trails off.

"He'll be fine," Bucky assures him. "By the end of today he'll be talking better and he'll be back to normal tomorrow. Just takes a bit for his brain to come back."

Wilson exhales shakily. "You've done this before."

"Four other times," Bucky admits.

" _Four_ times."

"When we were, I don't know, 16? Steve got real sick. Sicker than any other time. And he died. Felt him stop breathing, heart wasn't beating, all that. And I, uh. Well, I lost it. There was this old woman who lived across the hall who people always told these stories about. Fresh from the old country, and she was old, so we always thought she was a witch or something. And I wasn't really thinking straight, so I ran right over and told her I'd do anything if she brought him back. So she taught me how. Had to use it three times before the war and once during."

Wilson doesn't say anything for a minute. "What'd she take in return?"

Bucky shrugs. "Soul."

Wilson gapes at him. "Your _soul_? You gave up your soul?"

Bucky shrugs again and gives Wilson the same answer he gave Steve when he found out and hit the roof. "Steve's my soul. My real one. So what does it matter?"

Wilson doesn't react the same way Steve had, which had been with tears and sex, but that's alright. "You two are..." Wilson shakes his head. "So neither of you are ever gonna die? Just gonna keep bringing each other back?"

"Just me bringing him back," Bucky corrects. "He still has his soul."

Wilson's eyebrows fly to his hairline. "He can't do it for you?"

"Once he was better, he went over to the old woman to ask to take his soul too. But she was gone."

Wilson shivers. "Probably a good thing," he murmurs. "I really don't want to think about a Steve with all his anger and no soul."

"Exactly what I said."

Wilson just kind of blinks at him for a minute. "So...does he remember when he's back to his usual self? The dying and everything?"

"Yeah," Bucky says regretfully. "He does." The first few times, when he'd died from being sick, hadn't been too bad. But when he got shot during the war and he remembered all of that—remembered Bucky screaming and remembered falling into the muck of mud and blood and shit on the battlefield—that hadn't been great. They both still have nightmares about that.

"You don't ever think..." Wilson hesitates.

"That it'd be kinder to let him stay dead?" Bucky fills in. Wilson swallows hard. "I think it all the time. But I'm a selfish bastard. And we made a deal, he and I. Long as I'm alive he has to be, too. When I kick it he can go." Bucky shakes his head. "Though looks like that didn't even work."

"Buuuuuck," Steve calls from the back of the jet. "Two!"

"Gotta go," Bucky says. "He's technically a zombie right now. Wouldn't want him to eat your brain. If he could even find one in there."

Wilson doesn't even react. Bucky would be worried about shock, but there's a half-eaten Power Bar sitting next to Wilson's elbow, so he seems like he’s got a hold on it. Bucky leaves him to it and goes back to sitting with Steve's head in his lap, carding his fingers through Steve's hair and picking out dried blood.

Days later, when they emerge again, Barton slaps Steve on the shoulder and say, "Damn, Cap, I thought you were a goner for sure."

Steve laughs and says lightly, "Takes more than HYDRA to take me down."

Wilson meets Bucky’s eyes across the table, and Bucky stares back at him steadily. Wilson doesn't say anything. Bucky knew he wouldn't. The secret's safe, and that's a good thing, because he’s going to keep doing it.

No matter how many times Steve dies, no matter where he goes, Bucky will crawl inside and bring him right back.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Stealth Crawl](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14672655) by [TT40_Angst_Queen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TT40_Angst_Queen/pseuds/TT40_Angst_Queen)




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